#mente*

[shhdustin]

Dustin’s mom sighed softly through the phone. “I love you, Dustin. I miss you so much.” She sounded sad, and Dustin didn’t like that. “I love you too, mom,” He said. “And you know I miss you. I have to go now. My phone is almost dead, but I’ll probably FaceTime you later tonight, okay?” “Okay baby. Don’t forget to call your father, yeah? Love you.” She said before she hung up. “Bye, mom.” He said with a smile and an eye-roll, knowing that she couldn’t hear him. Dustin chucked his phone onto the slightly uncomfortable hotel bed and grinned. He’d just spent the last thirty-five minutes on the phone with his mother, listening to her as she talked about her day and gushed about how excited she was that her son had finally met some decent people that saw him for the “gorgeous, kind young prince” he was. He loved his mother dearly for always being there for him, and always making him feel like he was the most perfect person in the world, regardless of all his flaws. She was the main, if not the only, reason he was always so positive and happy. She’d been instilling such high levels optimism and confidence in him for eight years. To say that her hard work had paid off was an understatement he thought as he stood up from the bed and walked over to the mirror that hung on the the wall near the door. He hadn’t looked at himself and felt… Unattractive in a long time. He remembered a time, back in middle school, where he had hated to look at himself. Now, it was one of his favorite pass-times. He liked the way he looked, and on good days he even liked the way he talked. He liked himself in general. He continued to look at his reflection in the mirror and even made some faces. He loved himself. If he was a girl, he would probably want to date himself. Not only was he aesthetically pleasing, but he was also very kind, smart, somewhat interesting and loving. The only things that were “wrong” with him was the way he spoke, and the fact that his anxiety could be very bad at times, along with a few smaller things that could be overlooked. He thanked God for making him the way He did. “If nothing else… You’ll always be very attractive and intellectual.” He told himself before he laid back down and grabbed his phone, prepared to take as many selfies as he could before his phone died completely.

[shhdustin]

You know that feeling of… Denial you be feeling when it’s late at night and you were talking to someone in FM that you really like talking to or… You were talking to about something important and… They stop replying cause they fell asleep but… You ain’t trying to believe that they really fell asleep on you so you keep checking your inbox every five seconds to see if they replied but you know that they didn’t?

[shhdustin]

Dustin lowered his eyes from the hundreds of tiny printed words on the page in front of him as they started to blur together. He knew what was about to happen, but he stubbornly tried to fight it off. Just… Calm down, Dustin. Everything will be okay. Focus on finishing the book… You’re almost there. He told himself, but it was no use. His hands started shaking and his breath started coming out in short bursts. All he could think about was how annoying the way he talked was, and how uncomfortable it made people. No matter how nice or caring he was, some people would still only see him as annoying and as a source of discomfort. He was constantly showering everyone around him with love and affection and rainbows and sunshine, as if his personality could possibly make up for his speech problem. Obviously he’d fallen short. No matter how many times he told himself that it didn’t matter what people thought, and that it only mattered that he loved himself and was happy with the way he was, he could never actually make himself believe that. Not when everywhere he turned he felt as though he was being judged. He didn’t understand why everyone couldn’t just accept him. He’d never done anything wrong to anyone. It wasn’t his fault that he talked slower than most and paused a lot. He never asked for such horrible anxiety or for such bad emotional scarring.

He closed his eyes and counted to fifteen, like his mother used to instruct him to do when he was younger. His hands shook so bad that he had to put down the book. Tears pricked in his eyes as he climbed out of the bed and stumbled over to his dresser with a hand on his chest. He could feel the dull, but still painful throbbing starting to build there, and he hated that. Hated his stupid anxiety attacks and his stupid chest pains and his stupid medication and his entire stupid life, sometimes. Once he reached his dresser he grabbed his bottle of Vailum off of it and opened it quickly. He poured three or four pills into his clammy, shaking hand as fat tears rolled down his face and then he lifted his hand to his mouth and swallowed them dry. After he got them down he sat on the floor in front of his bed with his eyes closed and waited for the artificial sense of calmness to fall over him. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but when he wakes up on the ground a few hours later, it’s very hard for him not to be disappointed in himself.

[shhdustin]

Once again I’m… Up at 3am… And once again, you’re on my mind. I’ve never experienced this before and I’m… Not sure how I feel about this… Not even sure how I feel about anything right now, really… I’m tired.

[shhdustin]

It’s 3:07am and I just woke up out of… Nowhere and I have this crazy urge to write… The sappiest poems about… Roses and violets, even though I know I’ll… Probably never get the chance to read them to you…

[calebwilliamss]

☼❖⏀ (IBA A PONER MÁS PERO ME AGUANTE)

☼ Mi personaje despierta al tuyo con un beso.

Caleb estaba dormido tan tranquilamente hasta que sintió los molestos rayos del sol que entraban por la ventana. Pestañeó varias veces y lentamente, antes de tallarse los ojos algo soñoliento. Se enderezo de cintura para arriba bostezando con suavidad y giró su rostro al cuerpo que estaba a su lado, sonriendo con ternura. Ahí, dormido tan profundamente, se encontraba el amor de su vida. Se acercó a su novio y se acostó de lado para verlo de enfrente. Colocó un brazo en él colchón y recargó su mejilla en una de sus manos, sin dejar de mirarlo. Poco a poco se fue inclinando y al estar su rostro a unos centímetros del ajeno, hizo que las puntas de sus narices rozaran, antes de depositar un pequeño beso en sus labios.-Buenos días, bello durmiente.-Susurró después de separarse.

❖ Mi musa le prepara el desayuno a tu musa.

Golpeaba impacientemente con sus dedos la mesa que se encontraba en la cocina, esperando que el trozo de pan saliera de la tostadora. Segundos después un pequeño pero chillante sonido invadió la cocina entera, antes de que apareciera la mitad del pan por la abertura. Caleb lo cogió para dejarlo en un plato con otras rebanadas de pan, el cual se encontraba en una mediana tabla de madera, con dos vasos de leche y otro de jugo. Dos pequeñas vasijas las cuales contenían mermelada y mantequilla, junto con plato con fresas acompañadas con uvas. Tomó con delicadeza la tabla y se dirigió a las escaleras para subirlas, con mucho cuidado de que nada se le cayera en todo el trayecto hasta su habitación. Agradecía a los cielos que había dejado la puerta abierta. Entró a la habitación y sonrió de oreja a oreja al ver a su amado, quien veía la televisión. Siempre era su novio el que se levantaba temprano, y hacía estas cosas, pero ahora que estaba el menor en reposo, quería devolverle al menos un día la buena acción. Dejó la tabla con toda la comida en el buró y se sentó en la orilla de la cama, tomando una fresa y llevándola a los labios de su novio.-Quise traerte el desayuno, cariño…-Comentó algo penoso, nunca en su vida se imaginaba que haría esto.

⏀ Pensamientos que tiene mi musa al ver a tu personaje.

"Un ángel.". Eso era la palabra que pensaba Caleb al mirar a su novio. Es que él castaño era tan perfecto ante los ojos del inglés, que era tan difícil encontrar palabras que lo describieran, pero a decir verdad, ángel le quedaba a la perfección. El menor le resultaba tan exageradamente hermoso, que a veces se ponía a pensar que como diablos era un humano y no un Dios. Su cabello dorado más que él sol al inicio de un atardecer. Sus ojos verdes como él césped en el verano o primavera. Sus labios tan rosados como las fresas. Y su sonrisa, esa que iluminaba todos sus días. Era tan bello que parecía hecho por él propio Dios y sus ángeles. Y no es lo único por lo que Caleb pensaba que era un ángel. El chico había llegado a su vida milagrosamente, lo había cambiado para bien. Caleb era un maldito egoísta, superficial y soberbio antes de que Michael entrara en su vida. Pero gracias a él, y no es que ahora sea él hombre más ejemplar, ha cambiado. Aunque de todo esto, seguía sin entender como alguien tan hermoso, ocultaba tantas cosas, el castaño a veces lucía vacío, su mirada se perdía y se quedaba en silencio, dejando a Caleb preguntándose cual sería aquel pensamiento que consumía tanto a su pareja. Pero aun así, después de todo y tanto misterio, lo consideraba SU ángel.